CHAPTER FIVE:
RED SKY AT MORNING.

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"WE DON'T HAVE all day, you know." Birdie's eyes slowly fluttered open at the sound of the sharp voice, doing a double-take when she saw her mother glaring down at her with her lips pursed together and hands on her hips. The woman's dirty blonde hair was pulled back into a braid, a few strands dangling along her temples to frame her face. Her makeup from the night before had been touched up, more lip gloss coating her plump lips. A thin black shirt was tucked into a pair of blue jeans, mud-covered boots laced up on her feet so she was ready to go. There was a faint scar still visible along the right side of her jaw——courtesy of a ghost who had an intense hatred for women. Other small scars decorated her body that she'd gotten from previous hunts over the years, but she wore them each proudly. "It's about time you woke up, Birdie. I've been waiting all morning."

Birdie scrunched up her face and slowly rolled onto her side as she attempted to wake herself more, looking at the alarm clock on the table that read 6:21 AM. She'd only been asleep for two hours, having had trouble falling asleep as her parents soundlessly slept in the bed beside her. Serena Fowler never had any no issues with falling asleep no matter how difficult a hunt might've been. Something still gnawed at Birdie when she started to try and fall asleep. She thought it might've been the case, but she wasn't so sure.

Reese and Birdie weren't always affected, but sometimes one hit a little too hard. They couldn't save everyone——they knew that——but it didn't make them feel any better. Serena never understood that, able to brush death off like it was nothing. Reese and Birdie usually talked to each other if they could tell it was affecting one of them, always waiting until Serena was asleep or gone so they could talk without her cutting in. It was what she and Reese had done when Serena picked up dinner for them the night before, having to cut the conversation short when they heard the door unlocking. But, even then, she still couldn't shake it.

Birdie softly groaned to herself, tiredly lifting her head to look at her mother who was making her way over to the kitchen table where a steaming cup of black coffee was placed. The motel room was incredibly cold, but Birdie was used to it as Serena always seemed to be hot and needed the air conditioner on 24/7 whenever possible.

"It's barely morning, mom," Birdie mumbled, partially glaring at her mother. "We're not leaving here until nine. I think we're fine."

"No, plans have changed, my dear," Serena told Birdie, pushing some hair away from her eyes. She took a few steps over to the kitchen counter, setting her mug down with her back facing her daughter. "Your father's on his way from a hunt right now to pick us up so we can get a head start to the next one."

"Hunt?" Birdie repeated with a faint frown, sitting up and tiredly rubbing at her eyes. That little revelation certainly got her moving. She held back a yawn as she twisted in the bed, pushing her short blonde hair out of her face as she started to shove the covers off of her body. "Wha—we just finished one. Why the hell did he go on another one alone? Wait, and how is he already done?"

Serena let out a long sigh, sharply turning on her heel to face Birdie with her dark brown eyes widened in exasperation. A few seconds later, she shook her head and relaxed her features as if trying to keep her cool. She crept closer to Birdie, staring at her daughter. "Well, yeah. He didn't want me going with him for some reason and you refused yet again since you——"

"Refused?" Birdie scoffed in disbelief, sharply glaring at Serena. Why would Serena actually listen to Reese about her staying behind? The woman lived and breathed for hunting; there was nothing that would've stopped her from chasing down a monster no matter the risks. "Since when the hell do you actually do what dad wants?"

"Don't you take that tone with me, young lady," Serena scolded, pointing a finger at Birdie as she fastened her pace towards her. Birdie instinctively backed up the closer her mother got, eyes slightly widened in surprise as her mother's eyes instantly darkened. "It is your fault what happened to your poor, stupid father after all."

"But you just said he was on his way here. How did that su——"

"He was on his way here, Birdie," Serena softly said, standing directly in front of Birdie with a false pout displayed on her lips with her hard expression suddenly gone. Her eyes were still dark, the light quickly fading out of them. "But he died. . .coming home to you."

Birdie's face faltered at her mother's bitter words, shaking her head as she looked into her mother's cold eyes. There was no warmth, kindness, or even love in them——only untamed anger and hatred. That was the only things Birdie really ever saw inside her mother. "He-he was just coming home after he finished a. . .it was the other driver who——"

"No, dear," Serena interrupted, her unwavering pout still displayed on her lips. She gently reached out to touch Birdie's cheek, ignoring the girl's sudden flinch as she placed her cold hand against Birdie's warm skin. Birdie's eyes were clenched shut, head turned away. Serena shushed her, tucking some hair behind Birdie's ears while her heart started to beat faster with how close her mother was to her. She didn't feel safe——not with the way her mother seemed to be tethering between good and evil. "If only we hadn't had you, both your father and I would still be alive to do our jobs."

"No, that's not. . ."

"Yes, Birdie," Serena said, firmly nodding her head. Birdie finally opened her eyes, tears starting to cascade down her cheeks as she turned her head to look at her mother. The woman's pout was gone and had been replaced with a sneer. Serena's hand moved along Birdie's face, stopping at her chin. "How does it feel to know you can't save everyone no matter how hard you try?" Birdie sucked in a shaky breath, trying to ignore her mother. That wasn't really her talking. It couldn't be. "No, tell me, sweet, sweet Birdie——how does it feel to know that you couldn't save your own father?"

Birdie's bottom lip wobbled, eyes narrowing on her mother. "It's the worst thing you could imagine."

"And you didn't even go see him," Serena tsked her daughter, gritting her teeth together as she tightened her grip on Birdie's jaw. "You didn't give him the funeral he deserved."

"He was cremated. I wasn't——"

"You didn't see the body."

Birdie's eyes widened, shaking her head side to side while her mother just nodded at what Birdie was thinking. "No, I don't want to," Birdie whispered, her tears falling more freely now down her cheeks. "I-I can't——"

"You have to do it, Birdie!" Serena shouted, slamming her other hand against the wall right beside Birdie's head. She tightly gripped Birdie's chin in her hand, pulling her close. No doubt there would be a bruise by tomorrow. "You need to see what you did to your father."

"No, Mom, please," Birdie cried as Serena forcefully grabbed both of her wrists, roughly dragging her towards the motel door just as the sound of crunching metal was heard outside the door. Birdie loudly sobbed, frantically shaking her head as she tried to break free from her mother's iron grip. Her feet were pressed flat against the carpeted ground, legs trembling, but she was no match for her mother who nearly had her at the door. "Mom, stop! I-I don't wanna see it!"

"Bird!"

"No, no, no. . .NO!"

"Birdie, wake up!"

Birdie's eyes suddenly snapped open, flinching away when she saw a face looming in front of hers. "Hey, hey, Bird, it's okay," the voice softly said, causing her to look over with how gentle it was compared to her mothers. She visibly relaxed when she saw it was Dean, taking in his familiar features that brought a wave of comfort——the opposite of what her mother had brought in her nightmare.

He kneeled beside her makeshift bed on the floor of the abandoned house she was squatting in with Sam and Dean for a case, visibly concerned after overhearing her in her sleep. She clenched her eyes shut, faintly shaking her head as she tried to calm her racing heart while tears still trickled down her face. "Bird, hey, look at me."

Birdie's bottom lip wobbled as she let her eyes open, sniffling quietly as she faced Dean. "I. . .uh. . ."

"Come here," Dean gently instructed, opening up his arms as he scooted closer to her. Birdie let out a tired sigh, allowing herself to fall into his open arms without a second thought. He quickly wrapped his arms around her smaller frame, holding her close as if to let her know he wasn't going anywhere. She held onto him tightly, closing her eyes as she tried to dry her eyes and stop her sniffling. "I got ya, Bird. . .I got ya."

It wasn't until a few minutes later when Birdie finally pulled away from Dean, quickly wiping at her eyes to try and dry her splotchy face. Dean slowly removed his arms, intently staring at her with his brows furrowed together. Birdie scooted back slightly, letting out a shaky sigh as she pressed her back against the tattered couch Dean had slept on during the night.

"So. . .breakfast?" Birdie wondered, giving him a forced smile as she avoided addressing what had just happened.

Dean questionably raised his brows, faintly shaking his head as he shifted to sit on the floor across from her, one of his arms propped up on his knee. "You don't wanna. . .talk about it?" he wondered. He understood not wanting to talk about a nightmare more than most people, but not everyone was like him. Birdie was one of the most open people he'd ever met in his entire life——though he thought she was a little too open sometimes——but there'd only been a handful of times where Birdie had been truly vulnerable in front of either of the Winchesters. It was hard in their line of work, usually having to push their emotions aside in order to stay focused on the job. Many hunters simply kept their problems to themselves, sometimes voicing them if they were in real trouble or couldn't hold it in any longer. But thanks to Serena Fowler, Birdie was almost a professional at keeping all of her problems to herself for months at a time. "I mean I get it, but. . ."

"It was nothing," Birdie said with a sigh, giving him a small smile.

"It didn't sound like nothin'," Dean pressed, his eyes trying to search Birdie's own but she kept looking away like she felt her eyes would've somehow given him answers. "You know you can talk to me, Bird. . .about anything. It doesn't matter what."

Birdie twisted her lips, nodding her head as she fiddled with her fingers, picking at the skin around her nails. "I know. . .but that was nothin', Dean. Nightmares——they're just part of the job. Some nights you don't have any, and then some nights you do. Can't pick and choose."

Dean sadly nodded in agreement, letting out a sigh. He glanced aside at the front door, knowing Sam would be back in just a few minutes as he'd gone out to get them some breakfast. "It helps to talk about it, though," Dean said. Birdie made a face, playfully narrowing her eyes at his words. Dean lightly chuckled, tilting his head slightly. "Not for me, but for other people like Sam, it apparently helps."

"Bit hypocritical of you if you ask me," Birdie teased, causing Dean to scoff and roll his eyes just as she had done. "Really though, I'm okay, Dean."

"Alright, but the offer still stands," Dean told her, pushing himself up on his feet with a low grunt. He took a few steps over to Birdie, giving her a small smile as he held his hand out for her to take. Birdie grinned in return and placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her up.

The corner of Birdie's lip curled upwards more as she stood in front of him, keeping Dean's hand in hers for a few moments longer. "And the same goes to you," she softly said.

Dean breathed out a chuckle, shaking his head as he started to head towards the table off to the side of them. "Thanks, but I think I'm good for now," he said.

Birdie shook her head, running a hand through her hair with a small smile. She started to make her way to her bag that was placed beside the couch, wincing when she felt some tangles in her hair. She dug around inside her bag for a ponytail, pausing a few seconds later. She peered over her shoulder, twisting her lips as she faced Dean. "Hey, uh, Dean?" she asked, causing him to turn away from his phone in order to look at her. "Can we. . .keep that between us?"

"None of us are strangers to nightmares, Bird," Dean softly reminded. "Especially Sam."

"I know," she quietly replied, starting to pull her hair up into a bun so it was out of her face. She turned to fully face him, lazily leaning against the armrest of one of the couches. "I just. . .I don't want him to worry. He's got more than enough going on already and I don't wanna add to that."

Dean shifted in his chair, letting out a sigh. He knew she was referring to the fact that it was getting closer to the day he would die and be sent straight to Hell, the days passing them by faster than they all would've liked.

Time was already running out.

If he was going to be saved, then they needed to find a way soon.

Sam returned to the house nearly five minutes later with breakfast in hand, making both Dean and Birdie very happy. Birdie took her time eating, using that time to plan out what outfit she was going to wear when they went to visit the victim's relative who'd found the body the night before. The victim, a young woman named Sheila Case, had been found dead in the shower by her aunt who she lived with. Drowning the official cause of death but, that didn't make much sense and stemmed as odd enough for the hunters to decide to check out for themselves.

Once Birdie was finished eating, Sam and Dean were nearly ready. She quickly finished the last bite, heading over her bag to grab a suit that was folded up nicely. She tucked it under her arm along with her makeup bag, heading towards an empty spare bedroom down the hall where she had more room to get changed.

"I know you move quick, but maybe a little quicker this time?" Dean asked, adjusting his belt as she started to walk past. "We don't have all day."

Birdie felt her eyes widened, her heart stuttering at his words. "Wh—what?"

"We don't have all day. . ." he slowly repeated, furrowing his brows as he questionably stared at her. Sam frowned, taking in the woman's almost fearful expression. She was tightly gripping her bag now, breathing a little faster.

"Bird, you alright?" Sam questioned, dropping his hands from his tie to turn his attention to the woman.

Birdie briefly glanced over at Dean. He stared at her for a moment, lips slowly parting as if he realized. Birdie shook her head and let out a nervous laugh, nodding towards Sam. "Yeah, 'course," she shortly answered, quickly walking away before they had time to question her further.

Sam turned towards Dean, silently asking him if he knew what just happened. Dean shook his head, chuckling. "Women," was all he said.

Sam sighed but dropped it, going back to getting ready.

Birdie made sure that the door was completely shut, letting out a shaky breath as she stood in the middle of the square room. It was completely empty aside from a wooden chair beside the boarded-up window and a dresser that was missing all but one drawer. She ran a hand along her face, walking over to the dresser. She used part of her shirt she was wearing to wipe the dust from the top of the dresser, shrugging once it seemed clean enough. Then she set her suit down, beginning to get undressed.

Her thoughts were rampant as she readjusted her bra as it was a little crooked, brows knitted together.

She couldn't believe five little words had almost sent her spiraling in a matter of seconds.

Dean was not like Serena Fowler, but in that moment, all Birdie had heard was her mother's sharp voice when those words left his mouth. He didn't know either, but it shouldn't have mattered. Birdie had never been so affected by words, nor did she ever think that she'd find herself freezing over them.

She shook her head as she tucked her red blouse into her black slacks, wondering if maybe her nightmare had shaken her more than she originally thought.

"Fuck," Birdie grunted, slipping her arms through the blazer. She twisted her lips and picked up her clothes she wore the night before, setting them on the dresser. There was a dirty mirror hung up above the dresser, her reflection blankly staring back at her. She leaned in close to it, frowning as she touched the bags under her eyes. She ran a hand along the side of her face, shaking her head as she leaned back and grabbed her makeup bag to get started on her makeup. She wasn't planning on putting on much, but she did want to look more alive than what she felt.

She quickly applied her makeup, making sure she hadn't gotten any on her clothes in the process as she tucked her brushes back into the bag. Once she was done, she headed out of the room with her other clothes in hand. She shoved them into her bag as she returned to the living room area, making sure she grabbed her phone.

She turned to face the brothers, flashing them a smile when they stared at her. "Are we leaving or. . .?"

"Yeah, let's roll," Dean said, clearing his throat and snatching up his keys.

Sam twisted his lips like he wanted to say something else, but Dean and Birdie hurried out of the house, causing him to sigh.

It didn't take long to get to the victim's house that was located across from the docks, swiftly making their way up to the large front door after piling out of the Impala they'd parked down the road. An older woman in her 70's answered the door, eyes raking over the three hunters. Her white hair was styled in a low bun, exposing a pair of bulky earrings that probably cost more than Birdie's motorcycle. She wore a charcoal-colored blazer, a purple blouse peeking up from beneath the smooth jacket. Her makeup was neatly done, a faint smile etched on her lips as she stared at the three of them, mostly focusing on Sam.

They held up their badges, Sam requesting if they could ask her a few questions about her niece's death. She seemed reluctant, but silently invited them into her home. She led them into a well-decorated living room that was down the hall from the spacious foyer. She sighed as she picked up a picture of her niece, sadly staring down at it as they started to question her about Sheila's untimely death.

"But I don't understand. I already went over all this with the other detectives," the woman, Gertrude Case, said, visibly annoyed that she was being questioned once again.

"Right, yes," Dean said, briefly glancing at Sam and Birdie who were to the left of him. "But, see, we're with the Sheriff's Department, not the police department——different departments."

Gertrude glanced at Sam and Birdie as if looking for confirmation to Dean's words, causing the two to nod in agreement.

"So, Mrs. Case. . ." Sam started to say, but the woman cut him off.

"Oh, please," she said, intently staring at Sam as she looked the younger man up and down, "Ms. Case."

"Okay, um," Sam stammered, letting out a shaky breath under her unrelenting gaze, "Ms. Case, um. . .you were the one who found your niece, correct?"

Gertrude sadly nodded. "I came home. She was in the shower."

"And she apparently drowned?" Birdie asked, brows furrowed together.

"So the coroner says," Gertrude answered with a scoff, faintly shaking her head like she didn't believe that in the slightest. "Now, you tell me——how can someone drown in the shower?"

"How would you describe Sheila's behavior in the days before her death?" Sam questioned next. Gertrude glanced aside in thought for a moment before looking towards Sam again. "I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary, or. . .?"

"Wait a minute," Gertrude said, narrowing her eyes as she carefully looked at the trio. "You're working with Alex, aren't you?"

They shared a look with one another, silently agreeing that they'd go along with it; it was most likely a fellow hunter.

"Yes, ma'am, we are," Birdie sweetly answered, letting out a faint laugh.

"That's——Alex and us, we're like this," Dean added on, holding up his hand and crossing his fingers to say they were close with Alex.

"Why didn't you say so?" Gertrude asked with a cheerful laugh, her posture relaxing and visibly becoming more friendly with the trio while they chuckled along with her. She sat down in one of the chairs behind her, carefully placing Sheila's photo back on the table. Then she lifted her head to look at the three again. "Alex has been such a comfort. But I'm sorry. I thought the case was solved."

"Uh. . .well, no. No, not yet," Sam told her, hands tucked in the pockets of his pants.

"I see."

"So, anyways, we were talking about your niece."

"Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat."

"A boat?" Dean repeated, raising his brows slightly.

"Yes. One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes," she answered, brows furrowed together as she closely focused on Sam. "You think it could be a. . .ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship."

Sam, who Birdie could tell was thrown off by Gertrude's attentiveness to him, awkwardly cleared his throat. "Well, um. . .could be," he said, sharing an uncertain smile with Birdie.

"Well, you let me know if there's anything else I can do for you," Gertrude softly said. Sam's face faltered slightly as Birdie pursed her lips together, watching Gertrude lift her hand and slowly trace one of her fingers along Sam's hand. Sam's eyes widened, feeling the woman then take hold of his hand. Sam made a face as he looked at his brother with wide eyes, but then he forced a smile onto his lips as he looked back at Gertrude and gave her a firm nod. "Anything at all."

Dean cleared his throat, broadly smirking while Birdie tried her best not to crack as she gave the woman a soft smile as well. Sam quickly nodded and bid the woman a goodbye, the other two telling her bye as well and seeing themselves out.

They walked down the sidewalk, crossing the street to the docks. Birdie let out a content sigh, the wind fluttering against her skin easing her as they started to make their way back to the Impala, taking in the scenery as they did so.

Boats of all shapes and sizes were cruising through the open water in the distance without a single care in the world, enjoying the joyous sunshine that was beaming down from the sky before the gray clouds finally descended upon them. At least over a dozen of boats were still tied to the docks as they gently swayed back and forth, allowing the three hunters to get a closer look at them and take in all of the expensive details. They could hear birds squawking in the sky, flying over the town with the faint wind easing them along. Other people wandered around the docks, some lingering by benches to talk to someone with their voices all meshing together as Birdie walked beside the brothers.

"What a crazy old broad," Dean said with an amused smile.

"Why? Because she believes in ghosts?" Sam asked, faintly smiling.

Dean chuckled. "Look at you, sticking up for your girlfriend. You cougar hound."

"Bite me," Sam retorted, rolling his eyes as Birdie loudly laughed beside him.

"Hey, not if she bites you first," Dean cheekily replied. Birdie's laughter died down, shaking her head at the brothers. She adjusted her blazer, holding back a tired yawn as she listened to Sam and Dean. "So, who's this Alex? We got another player in town?"

"Maybe," Birdie answered with a shrug.

"Doesn't change our job," Sam said.

"And we're thinking ghost ship, right?" Dean asked, wanting to make sure they were all on the same page.

"Yep," Birdie said with a sigh, adjusting her bun as she could feel some hairs were already beginning to fall out since she hadn't put much effort into her hair that morning.

"It's not the first one sighted around here, either," Sam stated.

"Really?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Every 37 years like clockwork——reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every 37 years, a rash of weirdo, dry-land drownings."

"So, whatever's happening is just getting started."

"Yeah."

Birdie twisted her lips, turning her head towards Sam as they continued to walk down the docks. "What does the lore say?"

"Well, there are apparitions of old wrecks sighted all over the world," Sam answered, glancing at her. "The S.S. Violet, the Griffin, the Flying Dutchman——almost all of them are death omens."

Dean frowned. "So, what happens? You see the ship and then a few hours later, you pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye?"

"Basically."

"What's the next step?"

"We're gonna have to I.D. the boat," Birdie replied, pursing her lips and tucking her hands in the pockets of her slacks.

"That shouldn't be too hard," Dean said with a nonchalant shrug. "I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships have wrecked off the coast?"

Sam breathed out a laugh. "I checked that too, actually. Over one hundred and fifty."

"Wow," Dean breathed out while Birdie groaned in annoyance, throwing her head back.

"Yeah."

"Well fuck."

Sam hummed in agreement, puffing out his cheeks.

Birdie tiredly shook her head as they walked up a set of stairs, heading towards the street where Dean had parked the Impala. However, the parking spot was empty.

Dean looked around in confusion, holding his hands out at his sides as he walked past a parking meter. "This is where we parked the car, right?"

"Yeah. . ." Birdie slowly answered, glancing around in confusion.

How the hell did they lose the car?

"I thought so."

"Where the fuck's my car?"

"Did you remember to feed the meter?" Birdie asked with a raised brow, arms folded over her chest as she stood on the sidewalk beside Sam. Sam tilted his head, leaning closer to the meter to try and see if it was still running, but it didn't seem to be working.

Dean's face fell as he looked around, trying to spot the Impala, but it was nowhere to be seen. "Yes, I fed the meter," he sharply answered, voice starting to fill with panic as he walked back over to the sidewalk. "Sam, Bird, where's my car? Somebody stole my fuckin' car!"

"Hey, hey, hey! Calm down. Dea——"

"I am calmed down! Somebody stole my ca——" Dean sucked in a deep breath, starting to hyperventilate. He hunched over, clutching his knees as he attempted to calm down.

Birdie turned her head at the sound, gasping as she rushed to Dean's side. She frantically waved her hands in front of his face, ignoring the stares they were received from some of the bystanders. "Dean, hey, shit, just breath," she advised.

Sam hurried over when he heard Birdie, going to the other side of his brother with his hand clutching his shoulder. "Whoa, Dean. Hey, hey, hey. Take it easy."

"The '67 Impala? Was that yours?"

Their heads turned at the sound of the voice, watching Bela Talbot smugly saunter up to them in a brown leather coat that stopped just above her knees. Her brown locks were curled to the tips, barely passing her shoulders. A smirk was prominent on her glossy lips, bright-colored eyes staring at the hunters with a smugness that made Birdie's jaw clench.

"Bela," Sam huffed.

"Fucking bitch," Birdie said with rage instantly swirling in her eyes. She immediately started to reach for something tucked in the back of her pants, but Sam reached around Dean and grabbed her arm, causing her to stop. She huffed, reluctantly lowering her arm back to her side.

"I'm sorry," Bela apologized, feigning sadness when she stopped in front of them. "I had that car towed."

"You what?!" Dean exclaimed.

"Well, it was in a tow-away zone," Bela said, trying to make it sound like she had no other choice.

"No, it wasn't!"

"It was when I finished with it."

"What the fuck are you even doing here?"

Bela nonchalantly shrugged, glancing around. "A little yachting."

Birdie falsely pouted. "Too bad it hasn't sunk with you on it."

"You're Alex," Sam deduced after a few seconds, eyes narrowed at the brown-haired woman. "You're working with that old lady."

"Gert's a dear old friend."

"Bullshit," Dean sneered. "What's your angle?"

"There's no angle," Bela said, her smirk never leaving her lips. "There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform séances so they can commune with their dead cats."

"And let me guess——it's all a con. None of it's real."

"The comfort I provide them is very real," Bela smugly replied, taking a few steps to the side so she was closer to the docks.

"Oh, I'm sure," Birdie sneered, rolling her eyes.

"How do you sleep at night?" Sam wondered, face hardened with anger.

"On silk sheets, rolling naked in money." Dean tilted his head, faintly nodding his head as he visualized it. Birdie scoffed, harshly whacking his arm; it didn't matter how attractive they thought Bela was——she was still a vile woman. "Really, Sam. I'd expect the attitude from him and your girlfriend, but you?"

Sam stammered, giving the woman a look. Birdie made a face but didn't try to correct Bela. "She's not. . .you fucking shot her, and you almost shot me, too!"

"And I'm gonna return the favor right now," Birdie announced, starting to reach for her gun again. Sam watched her for a few moments but then gently grabbed her arm again, making her huff in annoyance as she dangerously narrowed her eyes at him. "Samuel. . ."

"I barely grazed you." Both Sam and Bird shared a look of exasperation while Dean shrugged in mute acknowledgment at Bela's words. Bela gave Dean a coy smile, briefly glancing at Sam and Birdie. "Cute. But a bit of a drama queen, yeah?"

"You do know what's going on around here," Dean sharply told her. "This ghost-ship thing, it is real."

"I'm aware," Bela said, her face falling in annoyance. "Thanks for telling Gert the case wasn't solved, by the way."

Dean gave her a look. "It isn't."

"She didn't know that," Bela snapped through clenched teeth. "Now the old bag's stopped payment and she's demanding some real answers." Dean glanced aside, catching Sam and Birdie smirking slightly. Bela huffed at their expressions, giving them a dirty stare. "Look. . .just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble. And I'd get to that car if I were you. . .before they find the arsenal in the trunk." She then turned her back to them and started walking away, briefly speaking over her shoulder. "Ciao."

Dean clenched his jaw, eyes pinned to her retreating figure along with Sam and Birdie. "Can I shoot her?"

"Not in public," Sam grumbled, angrily gritting his teeth.

Birdie twisted her lips, arms folded over her chest. "Technically you can——just don't leave any witnesses."

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

While Sam and Dean had been sleeping, another person had been killed——drowned just outside of a bathtub.

Birdie had still been awake well into the early morning, having gone to a little diner for an early breakfast——of course planning to bring the brothers some before she left——when she overheard one of the customers talking about another unusual death. Birdie took her and the brothers' food to go as soon as she heard, heading back to the house to inform them. They were awake when she returned, Birdie stating she'd woken up early so she could get them breakfast when she heard what happened after Sam asked her where she'd gone. Sam seemed to buy it for the most part, but Dean wasn't so sure. He left it alone for the time being, though; he'd talk to her once they were done with the case.

They left soon after they were done eating and dressed, coming upon a modern two-story house where a few officers were still outside while others were inside investigating the house. As they approached the house, they shared a look when seeing Bela talking to the victim's brother. A fake press badge dangled around her neck with a picture of her and an alias of hers plastered on the front, a tape recorder in her hand as she interviewed the distraught man.

"I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Warren. Now, if you could just tell me one more time about the ship your brother saw."

Dean, Sam, and Birdie quickly approached Bela from behind, flashing their badges at her and the victim's brother, Peter Warren.

Birdie was closest to Bela, darkly narrowed her eyes at the woman. "Ma'am, I think this man has been through quite enough. You should go."

"But I just have a few more questions," Bela sweetly said, giving them a kind smile that Birdie hoped physically pained Bela to do.

"No, you don't," Sam firmly told her, expression the exact same as Birdie's.

Bela hatefully glared, shooting daggers at the three "officers". She faced Peter one last time, giving him a tight smile. "Thank you for your time."

"Sorry you had to deal with that. They're like roaches!" Dean said, loudly saying roaches to make sure Bela's retreating figure heard him. She paused for a moment, letting out a huff as she started to walk away again.

"So," Sam started, gently placing his arm on Peter's sweater-clad shoulder to guide him a few steps away, "we heard you say your brother saw a ship."

"Yeah, that's right."

"Did he tell you what it looked like?" Dean requested to know.

"It was, uh. . .like the old Yankee clippers. A smuggling vessel. The rakish topsail, a barkentine rigging. Angel figurehead on the bow."

"That's a lot of detail for a ship your brother saw," Sam said.

"My brother and I were night diving," Peter said, looking from Sam, to Dean, and then Birdie. "I saw the ship, too."

The three shared a silent look.

On the other side of the parking lot, Bela had approached real law enforcement and was pointing in the trio's direction——no doubt ratting them out. Sam noticed first, clearing his throat as he subtly nudged Dean and gave Birdie a look who followed his gaze. Birdie rolled her eyes in annoyance, clenching her hand into a fist.

"Uh, all right," Sam said, patting Peter's shoulder as they started to walk away before they could get caught. "We'll be in touch."

They hurried back down the street, making their way to the Impala that they'd managed to sneak back from the impound; thanks to Birdie distracting the officers while Sam and Dean snuck into the fenced yard to retrieve the Impala. She didn't mind flirting to get something she wanted or help out a fellow friend, but one of the officers had been testing his limits while the other had just smirked. Birdie hated every second of it, but she played along for the sake of Dean.

The minute her phone started to play Dean's ringtone, Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd, a wave of relief washed over her. She feigned sadness that she had to leave, but she told the officers she'd be back as soon as possible.

She nearly sprinted to the Impala when she exited the double doors, clambering into the back of the Impala while Sam and Dean looked at her oddly. She'd simply shaken her head, telling them that one of them would have to be the flirt the next time.

They stood at the trunk after evading the real law enforcement, loading their shotguns with rock salt. With the revelation that victim's brother, Peter, had also seen the ship, they needed to be ready for whatever was about to come for him next.

Bela casually came up behind them, a slick grin on her lips. "I see you got your car back."

Dean automatically rolled his eyes, glancing over his shoulder at her. "You really want to come near me when I got a loaded gun in my hands?"

Birdie cocked her gun for emphasis, blankly staring at Bela.

"Now, now. Mind your blood pressures," Bela playfully chastised. Birdie mimicked the woman under her breath, sharing an annoyed look with Sam as she placed one of the shotguns back in the trunk. "Why are you even still here? You have enough to I.D. the boat?"

"That guy back there saw the ship," Sam said.

"Yeah? And?"

"And he's going to die. So we have to save him."

"How sweet," Bela said, smirking.

"You think this is funny?" Dean demanded.

"He's cannon fodder," Bela said. "He can't be saved in time and you know it."

The three exchanged looks, turning away to get in the car after Dean closed the trunk. "Yeah, well, see, the three of us have souls," Dean told her. "So. . .we're gonna try."

"Yeah, well, I'm actually going to find the ship and put an end to this," Bela replied, causing the three to momentarily stop. "But you have fun."

Sam let out an annoyed huff, becoming rather frustrated with the woman. Birdie bit the inside of her cheek, trying to ignore the itch in her hand that was begging to hold her gun.

"Hey, Bela, how'd you get like this, huh?" Dean questioned, walking back over to Bela. "What, did Daddy not give you enough hugs or something?"

"I don't know. Your daddy give you enough?" Bela retorted, expression blank, but there was something dark lingering in her eyes at Dean's words. Dean coyly smirked, faintly nodding his head. "Don't you dare look down your nose at me. You're not better than I am."

"We help people."

Bela scoffed. "Come on. You do this out of vengeance and obsession," she sharply said, glancing at the three of them. "You're a stone's throw from being a serial killer." Birdie's face faltered, feeling a sharp pang in her heart. She didn't want to let Bela's meaningless opinion get to her, but being compared to a serial killer——it was a low blow and Bela was well aware of that. Dean gave Sam a look that screamed "I'm three seconds away from killing this woman", shaking his head. "Whereas I, on the other hand, I get paid to do a job and I do it. So, you tell me——which is healthier?"

Birdie clenched her jaw as she narrowed her eyes at the woman. "Bela, leave before I fucking shoot you, and someplace worse than your goddamn shoulder."

"We've got a job to do," Sam told her.

"Yeah. You're 0 for 2," Bela said. "Bang-up job so far."

Sam twisted his lips, gulping. Birdie let out a breath, momentarily closing her eyes as she cracked her knuckles. Bela turned on her heel and started to walk away, not sparing them another glance.

'I should've shot her,' Birdie thought.

They headed back to the abandoned house, getting changed out of their suits and into their usual clothes for them to stakeout Peter. They picked up some food on the way to the house, eating it inside the Impala as they sat outside the house while Peter started to pack up some of his brother's things. The police were long gone, closing the case with drowning being ruled the cause of death despite it making zero sense. They munched on some food they'd got on the way there, needing to eat before anything intense happened.

It didn't take long for them to finish their dinner——Dean finishing his and the rest of Birdie's when the woman claimed she couldn't eat the rest——while Sam decided to try and do some more research to see if they could figure out what was going on before the spirit came for Peter. Birdie had a newspaper in one of her hands, a flashlight in the other to allow her to read over the tiny print. She'd read the same articles over and over, and there was nothing there. No clues, no connections——she didn't know what exactly was going on or why. It didn't help that she was struggling to keep her eyes open, the lack of sleep beginning to catch up to her.

Peter was still moving around inside his brother's house, continuing to pack up boxes and stack them off to the side on the second floor.

"Anything good?" Dean wondered after a few minutes of silence, glancing aside at Sam.

"No, not really," Sam, shaking his head with his brows furrowed, eyes skimming over an article that was written about Peter and his brother when they inherited their late father's fortunes. "I mean, both brothers are Duke University grads. No criminal record. I mean, a few speeding tickets. They inherited their father's real estate fortune six years ago."

"How much?"

"$112 million."

Dean lowly whistled, tilting his head. "Nice life."

"What about you, Bird?" Sam wondered.

The woman didn't respond.

Sam questionably peered over his shoulder, spotting her head leaning to the side with her eyes peacefully closed. The newspaper was barely on her lap, about to fall on the floor. Her flashlight was still in her hand that rested on the leather seat, shining on the other door.

Dean breathed out a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkled. Sam shook his head with a snicker, going to wake her, but Dean held out his hand. "Let. . .let her sleep," he softly said, letting out a faint sigh. "We'll wake her if we need her."

Sam took one last look at Birdie's sleeping figure, a faint smile appearing on his lips as he turned to face forward. He turned the page of the paper in his lap, but his lips smacked closed when he heard Birdie speak. But, he didn't catch what she'd said.

"Huh?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," Birdie whimpered. Her voice was still quiet, the brothers unable to decipher what she said. Just when they were about to turn towards her again, her eyes snapped open, a heavy breath escaping her lips. Sam and Dean's eyes fell on her, taking in her features. She let out a shaky sigh, looking at the brothers oddly. "What? Why're you both looking at me like that?"

"I don't know, maybe 'cause you're noddin' off back there while we're tryna work a case," Dean teased.

She scoffed at his response, switching off her flashlight and tucking it back in her pocket. "You could've just woken me up if it bothered you so much," she told him, tiredly rubbing at her eyes. She scooted towards the middle seat, lazily propping her head on the back of the front seat, looking from one brother to the other. "So? Anything interesting about the brothers?"

"I mean, they're nice, clean, aboveboard," Sam answered, briefly looking at her to see if she seemed okay. He wasn't sure if she'd actually been talking to him and Dean, but from the look on her face when they looked at her, it almost looked as if she'd just woken up from a nightmare. "So, why did they see the ship? Why Sheila, too? What do they all have in common?"

"Maybe nothin'," Dean said, glancing aside at Sam.

"No," Sam said, intently staring at the newspaper. "There's always somethin'."

Peter, who'd spotted them from inside the house when they weren't paying attention to him, had stepped outside to confront them. He made his way towards them, stopping in front of the gate that blocked off the driveway. "Hey, you!"

They turned their heads at the same time at the sound of his voice, spotting the lanky man. "I think we've been made," Dean said, glancing aside at Sam and Birdie.

The three got out of the car seconds later, slowly starting to approach Peter at the gate. Peter seemed to be panting, his hands placed on his hips.

"What are you guys doing?! You watching me?"

"Sir, calm down. Please," Sam said.

"You guys aren't cops!" Peter snapped. "Not dressed like that. Not-not in that crappy car."

"Whoa, hey. No need to get nasty," Dean said, insulted that Peter had made a jab about his baby.

"We are cops," Birdie easily lied, voice firm. "We're undercover, Mr. Warren."

Sam nodded in agreement. "We think you might be in danger."

"From who?!"

"If you just settle down, we'll talk about it."

"Look, you guys just stay away from me!" Peter angrily ordered, pointing his finger at them. He turned away right after, running over to his car that was parked a few feet away.

"Wait!" Birdie hastily shouted, the three hurrying forward.

"Hey, you moron!" Dean called out after him, stopping at the gate as Peter clambered into his car and started it up. "We're trying to help you!"

Peter drove forward to the other gate to try and get away from the three, but suddenly his car shuddered, the headlights flickering out seconds before it died.

"That can't be good."

"No. Get the salt gun."

Dean and Birdie sprinted back to the Impala while Sam climbed over the gate to try and get to Peter.

Inside Peter's car, a spirit dressed in old seaman's clothes and a navy coat with his long, black hair dripping in his eyes, appeared in the backseat. Peter turned to look when he saw the spirit in the rearview mirror, but the spirit was gone. He reappeared in the front passenger seat seconds later, hatefully glaring at Peter. He reached out to touch Peter's cheek as the man attempted to get out of the car, but the spirit locked him inside to make sure he didn't escape.

The spirit then touched his cheek, hatred swirling in his blackened eyes. Peter started to convulse, choking on water that spilled out of his mouth as he struggled to breathe.

Dean and Birdie made sure the shotguns were loaded, cocking them before slamming the trunk closed. They hurried back over to the gate, Sam sprinting towards the car.

"Peter!" Sam shouted as he reached the driver's side, concern etched on his features when seeing the man slumped against the steering wheel. Peter didn't respond, his body completely still. The spirit glared straight at Sam, eyes burning into the hunter as his lips parted at the sight of the spirit.

Dean and Birdie arrived on the other side of the car, Dean aiming the salt gun at the vengeful spirit. Birdie kept a tight grip on her shotgun, eyes tripled in size as she took in the spirit's appearance.

Sam!" Dean said, a way of telling him to get out of the way.

Sam ducked to the side as Dean fired at the spirit, covering his head with his arms. The spirit disappeared seconds later; Birdie wasn't sure if it was because he'd killed Peter like he was intending, or if the salt had hit him. Birdie pushed the thought aside and hurried forward, reaching through the shattered glass to unlock the car doors. Sam then yanked the drive-side door open, grabbing hold of Peter. He leaned Peter back against his seat, the man's eyes still wide open. His clothes were drenched, water still trickling out of the corners of his opened mouth.

Sam placed his fingers on Peter's neck to check for a pulse, but after a few seconds his shoulders slumped and he sighed, breathlessly shaking his head at Dean and Birdie.

Birdie closed her eyes in grief, stepping to the side with the gun dangling at her side. Dean kicked the door in frustration, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. Sam felt his shoulders become even heavier, feeling like he'd failed yet again.

Maybe Serena was right.

Dean ran a hand along his jaw, shaking his head. "Let's go," he said, starting to make his way to the gate. "Bird, can you——"

"I got it," she softly interrupted, already knowing what he was going to ask her. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, dialing 911 to make an anonymous call about Peter. Sam listened closely, trailing behind Birdie as they rounded the Impala. Dean and Birdie put their shotguns back in the trunk while Sam got in the passenger seat, silently looking out the window. Dean and Birdie got in next, none of them speaking as they weren't sure what exactly to say.

Dean started driving back to the house, the radio turned on and talking about the incoming weather.

"A severe weather front is heading in from the Northwest. Expect heavy lightning and thunder, with sudden rainfall——"

Dean reached forward and switched it off, slightly tilting his head. "Do you wanna say it or should I?"

"What?" Sam asked.

"You can't save everybody," Dean said, slightly turning his head to look at his little brother.

"Yeah, right. So-so what? You feel better now or what?" Sam wondered, sharply staring at Dean.

"No, not really."

"Me neither."

Birdie deeply frowned, her eyes locked on the dark trees they were passing. Dean wondered if she would respond, but he and Sam took her silence as a silent agreement that she didn't feel any better either——not with Serena's voice echoing inside her head.

Dean let out a sigh, faintly shaking his head. "You gotta unders——"

"It's just lately, I feel like I can't save anybody."

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

Birdie didn't sleep again that night.

Instead, she stayed up and read to try and keep her thoughts at bay. She barely paid attention to the book that was clutched in her hands as she laid on the couch (having been taking turns with Sam and Dean for who slept on the floor), finding her thoughts still wondering about her nightmare from the other night.

In the car, she knew she'd had a similar one, but thankfully that one had ended before it got intense and she alerted both of the Winchesters. She didn't remember much of the one in the car thankfully, but it was enough to make her decide against sleeping that night. So, she kept herself busy for as long as possible, going back to sipping on coffee once she knew Sam and Dean were asleep. However, she did end up falling asleep with a copy of The Great Gatsby laid on her chest and her coffee mug sat on the wooden floor, half-empty.

Two hours later she awoke, finding Sam getting dressed off to the side as Dean softly snored with his face pushed into the cushions of the opposite couch. She gave Sam a tired smile as Birdie started to sit up, yawning.

"Sleep well?" Sam asked her, an amused smile adorning his lips.

Birdie let out a faint laugh, scrambling to catch the book when it started to fall towards the floor when she shifted. She let out a huff as she caught it, blinking a few times to adjust her eyes as she sheepishly looked at Sam again. "Not really, no," she sighed, placing the book on the couch as she stood. She raised her arms above her head, stretching out her limbs as she tilted her head at him. "You?"

"You were right about the floor. Just like bein' at Bobby's," Sam quietly chuckled, taking a seat at the table. Birdie softly smiled, walking over to sit across from him. With all the times they'd spent together at Bobby's, Birdie and the Winchester boys had deemed certain nights movies night where they would sleep out in the living room, but someone always had to sleep on the floor while the other two got the couch and the twin-sized air mattress. Sometimes Sam and Dean wouldn't give up the air mattress if Birdie got the couch and squished both of themselves on the mattress, but there were times one of them was left with sleeping on the hardwood floor——which was usually Dean since Sam and Birdie constantly beat him at Rock, Paper, Scissors.

"Too bad we don't have a TV or a VHS," she said. "I haven't watched any movies in a while."

"Yeah, me either," Sam confessed.

"Hey, some of us are still trying to get their beauty rest," Dean grumbled.

"You'll be sleepin' for a while then," Birdie quipped.

Dean picked his head up, sharply glaring at her over his shoulder. She innocently shrugged, picking up one of the articles written about Sheila Case's death. Dean grunted and got up from the couch, trudging over to his bag.

It was time to get back to work.

Almost half an hour passed, a comfortable silence washing over the three hunters. Sam was reading at the table with books covering the entire surface, multiple articles about shipwrecks, every dry-land drowning that had been documented, and lore books. Dean was seated on one of the couches, scrolling through his phone. Birdie was still across from Sam, sipping on a warm cup of coffee, reading about old ships that had shipwrecked nearby to try and narrow down the list to see if the spirit could've belonged to one of them.

Birdie let out a sigh, feeling her body stiffen when there was a knock on the front door just as she was about to look at another ship.

Sam and Birdie instantly closed their books, bodies tensed as Dean got up to see who could've possibly been knocking on the door. Considering the house was meant to be abandoned and no one knew they were staying there, they weren't sure who could've been knocking on the door or why.

Birdie instinctively placed her hand on her gun in her back pocket, Sam holding his at his side.

Dean slowly made his way over to the door with his gun in hand, opening the peephole to see none other than Bela standing there. He closed the latch and tightened his jaw, glancing at Sam and Birdie as he reached for the lock above the door handle. Sam uncocked his gun and lowered it, Birdie removing her hand from her own.

Dean pulled open the door, pursing his lips as Bela stepped inside wearing a black blazer and pencil skirt, a folder tucked under her arm.

"Dear. . .God," Bela said as soon as she stepped foot inside the run-down house. Sam heavily sighed and Birdie scoffed, throwing her arms out at her sides as she gave Dean an incredulous look for allowing the wretched woman inside. Sam ran a hand along his face as Dean shut the door and locked it again. "Are you actually squatting? Charming." Bela walked further into the house, stopping in front of the table. "So, how'd things go last night with Peter?"

Sam's face hardened and he looked away from her stare, still beating himself up about Peter's death. Dean just glared at the woman as he stood beside her. Birdie closed her eyes with a frown, clenching her hand into a fist.

Their silence was an answer.

"That well, huh?"

"If you say "I told you so", I swear to God I'll start swinging," Dean warned her.

"Look, I think the four of us should have a heart-to-heart."

"That's assuming that you have a heart."

"Dean, please," she said, her eyes following him as he sat at the end of the table, placing his head in his hand. "I'm sorry about what I said before, okay? I come bearing gifts."

"Is it the lottery tickets you stole from Dean?" Birdie wondered, raising her brows as she sharply turned her head towards the woman. Bela simply stared at her, a blank expression on her face. Birdie grumbled, rolling her eyes. "'Course. You already spent that money."

"Such as?" Sam asked Bela, rolling his eyes.

"I've ID'd the ship."

She unzipped the folder that was under her arm, placing it down on the table——it was a portfolio. Birdie scooted to the other end of the table, closer to Sam and not within reaching distance of Bela.

"It's the Espírito Santo, a merchant sailing vessel——quite a colorful history," Bela said, handing a photo of the ship to Dean. He handed it to Sam after looking at it, Birdie leaning over to see it as well. "In 1859 a sailor was accused of treason. He was tried aboard ship in a kangaroo court and hanged. He was 37."

"Which would explain the 37-year cycle," Sam stated.

"Aren't you a sharp tack?" Bela teased, flipping through the photos in the portfolio. "There's a photo of him somewhere. . .here."

She reached over and handed it to Birdie. Birdie was surprised she'd handed it to her instead of Dean, but she quickly snatched it from Bela. She took a quick look at it, holding it out for Sam and Dean to see, brows raised. "Isn't that the customer we saw last night?" Dean asked.

"You saw him?"

"Yeah, that's him——except he was missing a hand."

"His right hand?"

"How the fuck do you know that?" Birdie demanded to know.

"The sailor's body was cremated, but not before they cut off his hand to make a Hand of Glory."

"A Hand of Glory?" Dean repeated, a smirk starting to appear on his face. "I think I got one of those at the end of my Thai massage last week."

Birdie rolled her eyes. "And you say you're an adult."

"The right hand of a hanged man is a serious occult object," Sam said. "It's very powerful."

"So they say," Bela said.

"And officially counts as remains," Dean said.

"But still, none of this explains why the ghost is choosing these victims," Sam said, briefly looking up at Bela.

"I'll tell you why. Who cares? Find the hand, burn it, and stop the bloody thing."

"I don't get it. Why are you telling us all of this?" Dean asked Bela.

"Because I know exactly where the hand is."

"Where?"

"At the Sea Pines Museum. It's a macabre bit of maritime history. But I need help."

"What kind of help?"

Bela's only response was a smile.

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

"Maybe I should become a con artist. Then I could really afford the clothes I wanna wear."

"You're still stalling," Sam airily replied, a small smile painting his lips. He was already dressed in a black tuxedo for the Black Tie Charity Ball that was being held at the Sea Pines Museum that night. Bela had gotten extra invites from Gertrude for the event as the woman already had received one weeks ago, giving Bela and the three hunters full access to the event.

It was an hour before it was meant to start and Sam and Birdie were meant to pick up Gertrude——one of Gertrude's conditions for the extra invites being that Sam was her date——and they were running out of time as Birdie struggled to find a dress. She'd initially had her heart set on a pantsuit, but she didn't want to risk not being allowed in, so she was stuck attempting to find a dress she liked.

Seeing that Sam had dragged her along to get himself a suit while Dean already had one on him, she saw it as an opportunity to get herself something brand new; and with Bela's money as she'd managed to sneak some cash from the woman's pocket right before she and Sam left.

Her makeup was already done, having gone with neutral colors so it would match whatever dress she chose, her hair straightened and cascading down her shoulders in gentle waves. They were still in the same store Sam had gotten his tux which thankfully had suits, tuxedos, and dresses of all varieties for anyone who might've wanted one.

Birdie had tried on at least ten different dresses, only showing Sam three of them because she didn't like the other ones once she put them on. He liked them all so far, but he wasn't sure if any of the ones she'd shown him were right for Birdie.

She had a certain taste when it came to clothes, and it was one of the things Sam liked most about her. She wore what she wanted and she didn't care if someone didn't like it; she wasn't searching for their approval.

"All I'm saying is I'd be able to wear something other than the same four suits," Birdie replied, finishing up zipping the last dress she had to try on. She had to admit, it was her favorite out of them all. It might not have been what Bela would've picked, but Birdie also didn't think Bela would've even stepped foot in the store she and Sam were currently in.

"Bird, just come on," Sam groaned from outside the dressing room, tossing his head back on the chair he was casually sat in. "We're gonna be late. I'm sure you look great."

"Then we'll be fashionably late. We'll fit right in with the snobs," Birdie cheekily responded, turning towards the mirror in the room. She smoothed her hands along the mesh fabric, a small grin appearing on her glossy lips as she stared at her reflection. "Sam, I think I found it."

"Can I see now?" he asked, standing up from the chair he'd been sitting on for the last twenty-five minutes.

Without responding to his question, Birdie simply opened the door. There was a nervous smile now on her lips as she slowly stepped out of the dressing room, her eyes lifting from the ground to meet Sam's.

Sam felt his breath hitch in his throat as Birdie stepped out of the room, eyes slightly widening as he took in her appearance.

The ankle-length dress was a beautiful lilac with sheer sleeves that had little bows at the end and embroidered lace tulle. It was adorned with white beads and floral appliqués in similar shades of purple along with a collared neckline and bishop sleeves that were paired with puffed accents. The pleated silhouette skirt flared out at the end partially and fluttered around her legs when she did a little twirl.

Sam stared at her with his lips parted, his eyes trailing up the dress until he finally met her gaze. "What. . .what do you think?" Birdie asked, twisting her lips as she fiddled with her fingers behind her back.

"I. . .wow," Sam breathed out. He gazed into Birdie's eyes, a bright smile appearing on his lips, his dimples poking out and causing Birdie to grin along with him. "You look stunning, Birdie."

"Thank you, Sam," Birdie told him, her cheeks growing warm under his soft stare. She let out a shaky sigh, flashing him a toothy grin when a giggle escaped her lips. "What d'ya say we finally go pay for this stuff and pick up your date? Bela's paying."

Sam chuckled, nodding his head. Birdie's smile remained on her lips as she headed back into the dressing room to pick up the clothes she'd worn into the store, Sam's already under his arm. When Birdie stepped out of the dressing room, Sam expectantly held his arm out to her. "M'lady?"

Birdie cooed, scrunching up her nose as she poked the tip of his nose. "Why thank you, Sammy. Looks like chivalry isn't dead after all."

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

"They do say great minds think alike."

"Indeed they do," Gertrude cheerfully replied to Birdie, flashing the younger woman a wink before looking up at Sam. Birdie breathed out a laugh, subconsciously tightening her grip on Sam's arm as they entered the Sea Pines Museum. Gertrude removed her arm from Sam as she reached into her handbag, grabbing the invite. Sam and Birdie stepped to the side of her, briefly sharing a silent look.

Birdie curiously glanced around the party, her eyes scanning the dozens of faces inside for any sign of Dean or Bela. She spotted numerous guards stationed throughout the museum, wanting to keep the artifacts protected——one including the Hand of Glory that they needed to get their hands on somehow; Dean and Bela were supposedly going to handle that part, though.

Birdie returned her attention to Gertrude, finally able to take in the older woman's appearance as she could finally see it in the light since she hadn't been able to see much of the woman in the dark of the night and Sam had been the one to walk up to her house and guide her to the car——one they may or may not have stolen since Dean was using the Impala.

The woman's long white hair was down, delicately falling past her shoulders. She wore a purple blazer with an even darker purple flower pinned on the left side, a matching skirt stopping just below her knees. A sparkly diamond necklace was secured around her neck with a pair of matching earrings dangling from her ears. She smiled at the man at the door when he gave her nod, automatically facing Sam again. Sam slipped his other arm through Birdie's without a second thought, Birdie faintly smiling as they started to enter a room off to the side where a bar was on the far wall.

"This'll get their tongues wagging, eh, my Adonis?" Gertrude asked Sam, her smile never faltering.

Sam heavily sighed. "Just remember——we're on business."

"But sometimes business can be pleasure," Gertrude lowly hummed, stopping and sliding a hand up Sam's chest in a seductive manner. Birdie raised her brows, only able to tightly smile.

"Right," Sam said, pursing his lips. He stole a quick glance at Birdie, receiving a brief smile and a squeeze on his arm as if to assure him it'd be over before they knew it.

They continued to enter the square-shaped room, Gertrude running a hand over Sam's back rather possessively as if to make sure everyone there saw he was there with her. Sam nervously chuckled at her unwanted touch, removing his arm from Birdie's as he turned to fully face Gertrude. Gertrude held his hands in hers, Birdie taking a few steps to the side when she saw a waiter with a tray of bubbling champagne was about to pass by. "You know, uh, could you excuse us for a moment?"

"Of course," Gertrude said, playfully pouting.

"Great. Thanks." Sam awkwardly patted her wrinnkly hand and turned towards the bar where he spotted Dean and Bela.

He then went up to Birdie after she'd gotten a glass from the waiter, almost startling her until she realized it was him. She gave him a grin and let him slip her arm through his again, leading them over to the bar and straight to Dean and Bela.

"Exactly how long do you expect me to entertain my date?" Sam firmly asked Dean, already looking exasperated, but Birdie didn't blame him. She'd be the same if her date was that handsy.

"Which one?" Dean snickered, suggestively wiggling his brows at Birdie.

"You do know I still have my gun on me, right?" Birdie sharply told him, subtly gesturing to her thigh where it was subtly holstered under her dress. Dean only smirked.

"As long as it takes," Bela answered. Sam tilted his head at her with a glare, eyes swiveling towards Dean.

"Look, there's security all over this place, alright," Dean stated, glancing around the party. "This is an uncrashable party without Gert's invitation, so. . ."

"We can crash anything, Dean," Sam said.

"Yeah, I know, but this is easier and it's a lot more entertaining."

"You know there are limits to what I'll do, right?"

Birdie took a small sip of her champagne, making a face. "You're already doing more than I would."

"Ah, he's playing hard to get. That's cute," Dean teased, making Sam clench his jaw. He turned towards the bar, picking up a drink for him and then Bela. "Come on," he told the woman with a content sigh. He handed her the drink, leaning in close to Sam as Bela stood from the stool she'd been seated on. "I want all the details in the morning!"

Sam tightly smiled.

"Thank you," Bela told Dean, starting to walk away with the glass of champagne in hand, Dean right behind her.

Sam adjusted his tuxedo, thinking of what he wanted to do next. Birdie playfully nudged him with her elbow. "At least we can get drunk while they do the hard part," Birdie pointedly told him, cheekily smiling as she held up her glass.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Sam breathed out.

"Why?" Birdie questioned, taking another sip of her glass with a smirk starting to work it's way onto her lips. "Afraid you might actually fall for your date?"

Sam shook his head, rolling her eyes at her taunt. He went to respond with a remark of his own, but suddenly a dark-haired man was approaching them.

"Birdie?" Birdie looked aside at the sound of her name, doing a double-take as she took the man's appearance as he stood in front of her and Sam. He had jet black hair that was pushed back with a few stray hairs dangling across his forehead. He wore a sharp suit with a bowtie that was identical to the one Sam wore, looking freshly ironed. She could see some of his intricate tattoos trailing across his neck that poked out from the collar of his shirt, giving her the impression that they were much longer than what they could see. His hazel eyes burned right into Birdie's brown ones, a warm grin on his plump lips. There was some stubble along his sharp jaw, a beard just beginning to take form.

Recognition washed across Birdie moments later, unable to hide her surprise. "Ryder? What're you doin' here?"

He visibly relaxed once she recognized him, and that she was being friendly——not that she really had much of a choice if she didn't want to ruin their chance of getting the Hand of Glory. "My aunt," he answered, tucking his hands in the pockets of his pants. "I was already in town for a visit and she asked me to come so. . ."

Birdie nodded her head, glancing aside to Sam. She breathed out a laugh, giving him a small smile. "Oh, um, Sam, this is Ryder Talos," she introduced.

Ryder kindly smiled at Sam, holding his hand out. Sam faintly nodded, shaking the man's hand. "Nice to meet you," Ryder said.

"Uh, you too," Sam said, still uncertain about the man.

"He's. . .Kaiya's ex," Birdie slowly said, twisting her lips.

Ryder and Kaiya had been dating for a year when they broke up just a few months ago, Ryder getting too wrapped up in his work to pay attention to Kaiya. So, the woman broke it off when things didn't change and moved on with her life. Birdie hadn't seen or heard from the man since then, but she'd never minded him; after she subtly checked him out to make sure he wasn't a monster or had a sketchy past. He was very kind, but he was also a workaholic——nothing was more important than his work, and Birdie knew how that could ruin relationships.

Sam's lips formed into an 'O' shape, only remembering hearing about Ryder once. Birdie nodded her head, letting out a faint sigh.

"Birdie, I was wondering. . .would you like to dance?" Ryder asked. "As long as it's okay with you and your boyfriend, of course."

"Oh, he's not——we're just friends," Birdie corrected.

She still couldn't understand why everyone always thought she and Sam were together.

Sam lightly chuckled, nodding in agreement when Ryder looked over at him in surprise. "Oh, I'm-I'm so sorry," Ryder said, nervously smiling. "I thought Kaiya said you and a Sam were a thing——"

Birdie scoffed in disbelief, shaking her head as she bit the inside of her cheek. "She would," she muttered. "I'm gonna kill her the next time I see her."

Sam chuckled again, catching Birdie's eye. "I should. . .probably find. . .Gertrude."

"Shouldn't I go with you?" Birdie wondered, not wanting to leave Sam all alone with Gertrude and her wandering hands.

"I wish you could, but I have a feeling she's not gonna let go of me once she finds me," Sam said with a sigh. "Get away while you have a chance——for the both of us."

Birdie chuckled, reluctantly sighing. "Okay, but——"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gertrude approaching fast with two glasses of champagne in her hands. Birdie gave Sam one last smile, patting his shoulder. She took a small step closer to him, leaning her head towards her ear with her voice lowered. "If I tuck some hair behind my ears, it means we got trouble," she told him, knowing that he would understand what she meant. "How about you touch your nose or something if you get into some trouble, alright?"

"You got it," he told her, firmly nodding.

Birdie sent him one last smile, cautiously slipping her arm through Ryder's. She discreetly placed her empty champagne glass on a tray as another waiter walked past, allowing Ryder to lead her a few feet away from Sam, turning so they were face to face. Gertrude reached Sam just as they'd started to walk away, Sam suddenly wishing Birdie had stayed with him so Gertrude might've felt more inclined to behave herself.

A tango-esque song began to play, Birdie awkwardly smiling as she faced Ryder. He let out a faint laugh, reaching his hands out, stopping as one hand hovered over her waist and the other was by one of her hands. "May I?" he politely asked, wanting to make sure she was still okay with dancing with him.

"You may," Birdie quietly replied. Ryder slipped her hand through Birdie's, gently resting his other on her waist. Birdie glanced at their hands, feeling a little more at ease when her rings made entirely of silver touched his skin and didn't faze him; nor did her coughing out "Christo" faze him in the slightest. She stole a look towards the other side of the room, able to see Sam and Gertrude beginning to dance.

She returned her attention to Ryder, a faint smile still gracing her lips. "So. . ." she awkwardly started, breathing out a faint laugh, "Anything new in your life?"

Ryder chuckled, scrunching up his nose as he shook his head. "Not really," he answered. "I've just been working and helping my Dads around the house."

Birdie hummed. "That's nice."

"Yeah, it is," Ryder agreed. "I know I spent a lot of time at work. . .before. . .but I'm trying to fix that."

"That's good," Birdie said. "Nothing good comes from being a workaholic."

"Is that coming from personal experience or. . ."

Birdie pursed her lips, vaguely aware that they were getting closer to Sam and Gertrude as they danced together. "It is," she said, smacking her lips closed, making it rather obvious that she wasn't going to elaborate further with her answer.

Ryder left it at that, deciding to change the subject.

"How's Kaiya been?" he asked, hoping that mentioning Birdie's close friend would make up for getting personal a little too fast.

"She's doing pretty good," Birdie answered. "She just got promoted. . ."

"That's amazing," Ryder said with a genuine smile. Birdie nodded along, thankful that he wasn't acting bitter. "I-I'm really happy for her."

"Me too."

Ryder continued to smile, both him and Birdie guiding their slow movements. "Are you still. . .what is it you do exactly?" he questioned, furrowing his brows together. "Kaiya only ever told me you took over your parents' business."

"Oh, I, uh, I'm a musician," Birdie answered; technically, it wasn't a lie——she just didn't get paid when she played her music. "I travel across the county, playing mini-concerts in small towns——you probably wouldn't know any of 'em. But, I used to do it with my parents and we were a band——"

"Oh, cool! What was your band's name?"

Birdie fought the urge to grit her teeth. How could she think of a band name in just a few seconds? "It was, uh. . ." She stole a glance over at Sam, her eyes widening in shock when she saw Gertrude grab Sam's ass. Sam was visibly uncomfortable with the entire situation, a grimace on his face as the woman's other hand kept his body close to hers with her head leaning on his chest. Birdie's eyes flamed with outrage, looking to Ryder. "I'm sorry, Ryder. I gotta go."

Ryder deeply frowned, dropping his hands at his sides as she hurried away. "Will I see you again?"

Birdie simply ignored him as she made her way towards Sam and Gertrude, blood boiling. She didn't see Bela and Dean finally enter the room again, Bela smirking with her purse tucked under her arm when seeing Sam and Gertrude dancing together. Dean caught sight of Birdie's expression, raising a questionable brow. However, the younger woman slowed at the sight of him, seeing Gertrude finally let go of Sam and move towards Bela.

"Well! Having a nice time?" Bela asked, sweetly smiling as Gertrude approached her. Birdie kept her glare focused on Gertrude, coming to Sam's side rather protectively.

"He's delightful!" Gertrude beamed, leaning in close to Bela as she lowered her voice, but Sam, Dean, and Birdie still heard her next words. "He wants me!"

"Oh!"

Dean held a look of surprise on his face while Sam appeared abashed, his lips parted after overhearing the older woman. Birdie grimaced, nose sourly scrunched up and brows knitted together.

Bela leaned over to the trio, taking Gertrude's arm in hers. "I'm going to get Gert into a cold shower."

"Great idea," Sam said, giving Gertrude one last smile when she grinned back at him.

Bela peered over her shoulder, looking at them. "See you at the cemetery."

Dean checked his pocket to make sure the Hand of Glory he'd managed to swipe was still safely tucked inside his pocket, nodding in approval when he felt the lump there. Then he turned to Sam, looking him up and down. "You stink like sex."

"Let's just——"

"Birdie, here," Ryder's voice said, coming up beside her. He held his hand out to her, holding a sparkly earring. She instinctively reached up to her ear, finding hers was indeed missing.

"Oh," she said, taking the earring from him, "Thank you."

"So, I'll see you around?" he asked.

Birdie sighed, forcing a smile on her lips. "Sure, Ryder."

She gave him a nod and started to walk towards the door. Sam offered Ryder a faint smile before following Birdie, thankful the night was finally coming to an end. Dean glanced over at the man, not saying a word as he started to make his way towards the door as well. The trio started to head out of the museum, Birdie simply shaking her head at Dean when he raised a questionable brow in her direction.

They swiftly made their way to the parking lot across the street, Birdie starting to adjust her hair and remove her heels.

"You meet the love of your life back there, Bird?" Dean questioned Birdie once they reached the Impala, amusement laced in his voice. Birdie scoffed and gave him the middle finger as her only response. He loudly laughed, climbing into the driver's seat while Sam and Birdie got in.

"You got it, right?" Sam asked Dean, undoing his bow tie. "Tell me I didn't get groped all night by Miss. Havisham for nothing."

"I got it. . .Miss. Who?"

"Never mind. Just let me see it."

"Yeah, c'mon, Dean," Birdie urged, scooting to the edge of the backseat, head poking between the brothers.

Dean pulled something out of his pocket and started to unwrap it, looking uptight as his eyes slightly widened.

"What, Dean?" Birdie demanded to know.

Dean held up a small ship in the bottle——the same one Bela had been looking at in the office when they snuck away from the party in order to steal the Hand of Glory. Dean dropped his hand to his lap, eyes boring in front of them. "I'm gonna kill her."

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

Seeing that they had no power in the house, they had to light candles to make sure they could still see. The boarded-up windows allowed some moonlight to stream in, but it was still rather dark inside the house.

Dean was seething as they entered the house, grumbling in anger as he grabbed his bag to get out of the suit. Birdie shared a look with Sam, the two of them equally as enraged that Bela had gotten the upper hand once again. Birdie plopped down on the couch, starting to find some clothes to change into once Dean was done. Even after they were all out of the suits and dress, Dean was still grumbling and muttering about Bela and how he wanted to kill her. Birdie had told him she'd help him do it once she exited the bedroom, dressed in a dark green hoodie and a pair of black leggings. She'd done her best to wipe away her makeup, but there was still some mascara and eyeliner on her eyes as she'd grown annoyed trying to remove it all and decided to just leave it for the time being. Her hair was pulled up in a low bun, her sparkly earrings gone and replaced with the usual small studs she wore.

Dean was carefully examining the ship-in-a-bottle by the light of one of the candles, seething. "You know what? You're right. I'm not gonna kill her. I think slow torture's the way to go."

"Dean, look, you gotta relax," Sam gently told him, closing a book as he stood beside the crackling fireplace. Birdie stood at the table, hands firmly placed on the surface with her back slightly hunched as she looked from one Winchester to the other.

"Relax? Oh yeah, yeah, I'll relax," Dean scoffed. "I can't believe she got another one over on us!"

Sam briefly looked up from his book, staring at Dean. "You."

Dean turned around, taking a few steps towards Sam. "What?"

"I-I mean, she got. . .one over. . .on you. . .not us."

Dean paused, anger rising. Sam pointedly tilted his head. Birdie rolled her eyes, standing up and running a hand over her face. "Thank you, Sam! Very helpful." He expectantly turned to Birdie, shaking his head. "Can you believe him?"

"No, I can't," she sighed. "'Cause then technically, the last time she got one over on Sam." Sam frowned, holding one of his hands out at his side, but Birdie just shrugged. "I'm just sayin'."

"Thanks, Bird," Dean told her with a small smile.

A few seconds passed before there was rapid knocking at the door. "Hello? Could you open up?" Dean looked at Sam and Birdie with wide eyes as all three approached the door, instantly recognizing the voice. Quickly they made their way towards the door, Dean hastily opening it up. Bela easily saw all three glaring at her with daggers directed straight at her face, wishing they could actually kill her with their eyes. "Just let me explain."

After exchanging some glances, Sam and Birdie reluctantly stepped back while Dean opened the door to let the woman in. Birdie gritted her teeth as Bela made her way over to the table, taking a seat while Birdie sat off to her left, chair scooted back somewhat.

Dean threateningly leaned over Bela's shoulder, a hard look on his face. Sam leaned against the mantle, a serious bitchface on his features; Birdie's was almost identical.

"I sold it. I had a buyer lined up as soon as I knew it existed," Bela confessed, knowing there was no point in trying to lie to them.

Dean, furious with the brown-haired woman, walked around her and made a shooting motion with his fingers at the back of her head.

"So the whole reason for us going to the charity ball was. . ."

"I needed a cover." Sam faintly nodded——he figured as much. "You were convenient."

"Look, you sold it to a buyer. Just go buy it back."

"It's halfway across the ocean. I can't get it back in time."

"In time for what?" Birdie harshly snapped.

Bela looked down without answering right away.

"What's going on with you, Bela?" Sam asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I saw the ship."

"You what?" Dean asked. Sam stood up straight, face slightly faltering. Dean breathed out a bitter laugh, walking closer to the table. Now that they knew why the spirit was going after certain people, it let them see even more of Bela's true colors. "Wow, you know, I-I knew you were an immoral, thieving, con-artist bitch, but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any fuckin' lower——"

"What are you talking about?"

"We figured out the spirit's motive," Sam said, making his way over to the table. Dean stood off to the side of Bela with his arms smugly folded over his chest. Sam picked up a photo, holding it out to Bela. "This is the captain of our ship. The one who hung our ghost boy."

"So?"

"So they were brothers," Sam answered, dropping the photo on the table. "Very Cain and Abel. So now our spirit, he's going after a very specific kind of target——people who've spilled their own family's blood." Bela looked stunned as she looked at the photo. Sam shared a look with the others. "See first there was Sheila who killed her cousin in the car accident. And the Warren brothers, who murdered their father for the inheritance. And now you."

"Oh my God," Bela breathed out.

"So who was it, Bela?" Dean asked with a hum, leaning close beside her. "Who'd you kill? Was it Daddy? Your little sis, maybe?"

"It's none of your business."

"No? Riight. Well, have a nice life——you know, whatever's left of it." Dean slapped her on the back and stood up. "Sam, Bird, let's go."

Birdie smirked at Bela, pushing herself onto her feet. "What was the word you used the other da?" she asked, feigning confusion. "Oh, right. Ciao."

Dean walked towards the couch where his things were, picking up his jacket.

Bela stood up, a hard look on her face. "You can't just leave me here."

"Watch us."

"Please," Bela begged. Sam looked down, trying to avoid her stare. "I need your help."

"Our help?" Birdie scoffed, tightly gripping her shoes she was planning to wear. "Why the fuck do you want help from some serial killers?"

"Okay, that was a bit harsh, I admit it, but it doesn't warrant a death sentence."

"That's not why you're gonna die," Sam softly told her. "What'd you do, Bela?"

"You wouldn't understand. No one did," Bela shortly replied. Sam sighed, tilting his head. Dean blankly stared at her. "Never mind. I'll just do what I've always done, I'll deal with it myself."

Bela pursed her lips and turned away, her heels clicking against the floorboards.

"You do realize you just sold the one thing that could save your life," Dean told her.

"I'm aware," Bela said as she faced them, looking saddened; she wasn't ready to die.

"Well. . ." Sam said, heavily sighing, "Maybe not the only thing."

Dean and Birdie sidedly looked at Sam.

"Sam, what the hell're you talking about?"

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

Nearly two hours later they stood in a graveyard under a gleaming full moon.

Birdie hadn't really wanted to help try to save Bela's life, but there was no guarantee that Sam's plan would've even worked; she just wanted to be there to see if she managed to live or not.

Though, she still wasn't happy Sam had managed to talk her into helping him set up for the summoning ritual.

Dean stood beside Bela near a tall gravestone, the woman hugging herself as the crispy night air nipped at her skin. Dark clouds loomed over the sky, a storm getting ready to spill over them at any second.

Birdie twisted her lips as she adjusted one of the jars, heavily sighing as she finally pulled her hand away. She checked over everything they had, silently marking things off in her mind that they had set it up correctly; five lit candles, a drawn-up pentagram, a bowl that Sam was currently filling, and another jar with some special herbs shoved inside. Then Sam placed one last thing in the circle, taking a step back.

Birdie picked up the book Sam had sat off to the side, handing it over to him with a glare. "Thanks, Bird."

"Don't forget I'm only doing this so I can kill her myself later."

"Unless Dean beats you to it," Sam said, making Birdie let out a faint laugh.

She walked over to a duffle bag that was behind her and Sam, picking up her own shotgun as a precaution.

Bela, who was shaking both from fear and the increasing cold, looked towards Sam. "Do you really think this is going to work?"

"Almost definitely not," Dean answered, glancing around the graveyard.

"If we're lucky it won't," Birdie said, shooting Bela a glare.

Thunder crackled through the sky seconds later, wind whistling around them. Within seconds rain started to pour down and drench the four of them. Sam quickly zipped up his jacket, squinting as the rain pelted him in the face. Birdie adjusted her hoodie she still wore, pulling out a beanie she'd forgotten she'd stuffed in the pocket. She pulled it over her head, hoping it'd help lessen the water falling in her eyes. Then she moved the shotgun, holding it with both hands as she took a few steps closer to Dean and Bela. Dean stood up straight, looking around with his grip on the gun tightening.

"Sammy! You better start reading!" Dean advised over the thunder.

"Aziel, Castiel, Lamisniel, Rabam. Ehrley, et balam, ego vos conuro, per deum verum, per deum vivum," Sam read, pausing for a moment before he continued. "cuivos cuiaves eos supermontes et per eum, qui adam, et avum formovit. Et per eum——"

Sam continued to recite the summoning ritual as Dean remained beside Bela, Birdie looking towards the trees behind her when she thought she saw movement in them. "Stay close!" Dean told Bela. "Birdie——"

"Behind you!" Bela shouted at Dean.

The spirit approached and swiftly threw Dean through the air. His back collided with a tombstone with a painful thud, falling to the ground. Sam looked up and continued reading Latin, going as fast as he could.

Birdie quickly aimed her gun at the spirit, but he threw it aside just like he'd done with Dean. Her eyes widened, closing moments after as she was thrown to the side like a mere ragdoll. A pained groan left her lips when she collided with a square tombstone, clenching her eyes shut.

The spirit reached out to Bela and placed his hand on the side of her face just as he'd done with the other victims. She began to cough up water within seconds, eyes enlarging as it poured from her mouth. The spirit simply watched, a smirk on his lips.

Bela fell to her knees, hunched over as she coughed and coughed.

Dean staggered over to her with a pained expression, trying to help support her through her heaves. Birdie grunted, pushing herself upwards, eyes frantically blinking as she looked for her shotgun.

"Sammy, read faster!"

Bela continued to cough, struggling more and more as the seconds past. Sam kept reading, finally stopping as he read the last word.

The rain died down seconds later, Bela's coughing starting to slow.

A creaking sound broke through the sudden silence, the spirit's head slowly turning toward the source of the noise.

That was when his eyes fell on his brother——the one who had hung him.

The spirit's expression angered, teeth gritting together as he spoke. "You. . .hanged me."

"I'm sorry," his brother apologized, sounding sincere with a solemn look in his eyes.

"Your own brother."

"I'm so sorry!"

The ghost charged his brother's ghost with an enraged yell, the two dissolving into loud screams and a splash of water.

Bela stopped coughing up water all together, leaning into Dean as he protectively held her in his arms.

She was safe for now.

Birdie winced as she picked up her gun, limping over to Sam. "Are you gonna say it?" Sam asked, letting out a faint sigh as tucked the book under his arm.

Birdie narrowed her eyes at him, playfully puffing out her cheeks. "No, she has time to die," she said, gesturing towards Bela while Dean helped the woman stand, "We do not."

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

Birdie slept surprisingly well that night.

Maybe it was due to the pure exhaustion she felt from dealing with a spirit or the overall lack of sleep from not sleeping the past two nights, but she didn't have any dreams or nightmares——it was just what she needed.

They started to pack up once they were all awake while the sun beamed down on the house, getting ready to leave their squatted residency and move onto the next thing.

Birdie was in the middle of trying to shove her new cocktail dress into her bag, jumping when the front door opened and Bela walked in.

"You three should learn to lock your doors," she told them, walking forward. "Anyone could just barge in."

"Anyone just did," Sam told her, zipping up his bag. "Did you come to say goodbye or thank you?"

"I've come to settle affairs," Bela said, reaching into her purse. Birdie shook her head and stepped away from the couch, folding her arms over her chest as she took a few steps closer to the woman. "Giving the spirit what he really wanted, his own brother, very clever, Sam. So here." She tossed each of them a wad of cash. "It's ten thousand. That should cover it." The three looked at the packets of money and then at Bela with their brows raised in surprise. "I don't like being in anyone's debt——even if one of you stole from me."

Birdie twisted her lips, quickly looking away when Bela and Dean suspiciously glanced in her direction.

"So ponying up ten grand is easier for you than a simple thank you?" Dean wondered, turning his attention back to her. She faintly smiled in return. Dean shook his head, a small smile appearing on his lips. "You're so damaged."

Bela's smile only widened. "Takes one to know one. Goodbye, lads."

She turned on her heel, heading out of the house without another word.

"She's got style," Sam said once she was gone. "You gotta give her that."

Birdie just scoffed.

"I suppose," Dean said, standing in front of Sam and examining the money. Birdie walked closer, unable to prevent a grin from appearing on her lips as she examined the money now in her hands.

"You know, Dean, Bird, we don't know where this money's been," Sam said, glancing between the two as he held the wad in his hand out to Dean for emphasis.

Dean smirked with an excited laugh, swiftly snatching it out of Sam's hand. "No, but I know where it's going!"

Sam looked over to Birdie to see if she'd side with him, but then he saw the woman slipping some of the cash into her shirt. Dean took notice, too, glancing towards Sam.

Birdie peeked over at them out of the corner of her eye, giving them a look when she faced them. "No fucking way you're takin' this away from me," she said, slipping a few more bills into her shirt. "I earned this."

"For what?"

"What do you——for not killing her, Samuel."

Dean breathed out a laugh, excitedly waving the money in the air as he returned to packing up his things so they could hit the road as soon as possible.

Night was upon them once again as they headed from Massachusetts to New Jersey.

Birdie had managed to wiggle her way into the middle seat in the front, perfectly pressed up against each Winchester with a grin on her lips as they rode down a dark street. A map was laid in Sam's lap, shining a flashlight on it as he looked for their next destination.

"Seriously? Atlantic City?" Sam asked Dean.

"Hell yeah! Play some roulette. Always bet on black," Dean said, a giddy grin on his lips. Birdie chuckled in amusement, shaking her head. There was no way she was going to spend her share of the money just yet; hopefully she'd be able to save it for quite some time before she actually had to use it. "Hey listen, I've been doing some thinking. Um. . .I want you to know I understand why you did it. I understand why you went after the Crossroads Demon."

Sam sighed.

Birdie twisted her lips, stammering as she felt the air inside the car change, and in a rather uncomfortable way. "I, uh, feel a brotherly moment comin' on, so, I'm just gonna——" Birdie didn't finish her sentence, instead clambering into the backseat as Dean tried to protest when her shoes pressed down on the leather seat. She crawled her way into the backseat, shooting Dean an innocent grin when he glared at her through the rearview mirror. He let it go for the moment, knowing he needed to get out what he wanted to say to Sam.

"You know, situation was reversed, I guess I'd have done the same thing," Dean said, pausing for a brief moment as he stole a look at Sam. "I mean I'm not blind. I see what you're going through with this whole deal——me going away and all that. But you're gonna be okay."

Sam huffed, blank expression on his features. "You think so."

"Yeah, you'll keep hunting, y'know, you live your life, keep annoyin' Bird for the both of us. You're stronger than me. You are!" Sam cleared his throat, seemingly becoming bothered with their conversation. Birdie bit her bottom lip, turning her gaze to the window, watching the darkened world around them pass them by quickly. "You are. You'll get over it. But I want you to know I'm sorry. I'm sorry for. . .putting you through all this——both of you——I am."

"You know what, Dean? Go screw yourself."

Dean and Birdie were both surprised by Sam's harsh response. "What?"

"I don't want an apology from you!" Sam snapped. "And by the way, I'm a big boy now. I can take care of myself."

"Oh, well, excuse me," Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Birdie closed her eyes, shaking her head. "I should've just taken my bike when I had the chance. . ."

"So would you please quit worrying about me?" Sam asked, voice raising. "That's the whole problem in the first place. I don't want you to worry about me, Dean. I want you to worry about you! I want you to give a shit that you're dying!" Dean didn't say anything. Though, a smirk appeared on his lips as he remained quiet. Sam shook his head in disbelief at Dean. "So, that's it? Nothing else to say for you?"

"I think maybe I'll play craps," Dean finally said, completely disregarding what him and Sam were just talking about.

Sam stared at his brother with his head tilted, clearly outraged. He shook his head, letting out an exasperated sigh as he turned towards the window.

Dean faintly nodded his head, his smile faltering in a few seconds later.

Birdie shifted uncomfortably in the seat, involuntarily flinching when her phone started to ring. "Oh, thank god," she breathed out, quickly pulling it out of her pocket. She didn't care that it wasn't someone in her contacts——she needed something other than the tense silence filling her ears. "Hello?" she answered. However, no one replied. "Uh, hellooo?"

She didn't hear anyone's voice, but she heard the phone click as if someone ended the call.

She pulled her phone away with a frown, looking down to read over the number. "Who was that?" Dean wondered.

Birdie sighed, shaking her head as she pocketed her phone again. "I don't know," she said. "Must've been a wrong number."

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

Hehehehe, okay, this chapter was a lot of fun to write tbh!! Y'all got to see a certain "version" of Birdie's mother at the very start, and she will be mentioned and shown throughout the story more (along with Birdie's dad), so y'all will get to see them more heheh 👀.

Also yes, I did have Birdie and Sam do some shopping together. I couldn't help myself because I love them so much and ship them already and needed it 🥺. Seriously, Sam and Birdie are my comfort characters and I love writing for them so much (and making graphics as I have a ton for them). I also got a bunch of AU's planned (with one based on season 10 episode 3 already written and another for the same episode in mind 😈)

But anyways, I hope y'all liked seeing Birdie interact with Bela again as much I liked writing them lmaoo. And hey, there was another original character added in! I'm still planning his character out, but I do hope y'all will enjoy what I've got in store for him already!

I feel like I'm forgetting to go over something, but that's every time I post a chapter so I guess we'll see lmao 😂💀🤷‍♀️

Anyways, please don't forget to leave your feedback in the comments and I hope y'all enjoyed!